


5 | You without me

by ELC01



Series: It’s you [5]
Category: Harry Styles (Fandom), Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ELC01/pseuds/ELC01
Summary: With such a magnetic attraction, they could afford to wait for their perfect moment.So, when the time is right, Harry and Eloise finally get to embark on something magical together.Navigating their blossoming relationship through tours and a burgeoning new career, the hiatus and new directions, they experience all manner of highs and lows.They'll face revelations and illnesses, break ups and make ups, weddings and anniversaries. But whose?>Fifth in a series of interconnected select moments, exploring the developing relationship between Harry and Eloise.This fifth instalment takes place from March to August 2016, before ‘1 | Back to you (Prologue)’, but after ‘2 | You, again’, ‘3 | You & I’, and ‘4 | You with me’.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Series: It’s you [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528811
Kudos: 14





	1. Part A

**Author's Note:**

> Please note:  
> This is intended as an exercise in character development and descriptive writing. Any mistakes are my own.  
> Harry features heavily - because he's incredibly charismatic and so talented - but I feel a little out of my comfort zone writing RFC, so will be mindful to be as respectful as possible.  
> Disclaimer: I have no links to Harry or any of his associates. Rather, I am just borrowing him and them as familiar points of reference for not-for-profit artistic license.

18th March 2016

"And cut! Reset and we'll go again. Let's go back to the other lens", Walter, the First Assistant Director, calls.

Eloise ducks past him and steps past the lights, behind the camera, to slide into their booth at the back of the diner.

A runner passes her a bottle of water with a straw through the cap as the make-up artist checks her over.

She roams her eyes over the crew and equipment crammed into the narrow set, always amazed at quite how big a village it seems to take. And Baby Driver isn't even a massive production.

After an initial two weeks back in February, she'd been back on set for this block of filming for almost two weeks already, and still has two more left to go.

Hers is only a supporting role, so the rest of the cast have a way longer and more intense schedule than her, but she's enjoying it and soaking up the experience.

Digging in her bag for her phone, she frowns to see her notifications littered with missed calls and texts from Harry. They miss each other all the time when they're busy working, but a single message always suffices. This is odd.

She scrolls through his messages first, but they don't elaborate. His voicemails worry her. He sounds tired and anxious, increasingly fraught.

'Babe, it's me. Call me back when you can, please. I, umm, I love you'.

'Baby. Please call. It's urgent'.

'El, we really need to talk'.

'Shit...'.

Oh God, what on Earth?

She pulls up her favourite contacts and taps his name at the top, lifting the phone to her ear with a shaky hand and a deep breath.

She frowns as it rings out. His voicemail greeting kicks in, 'Don't even bother...' he dissuades with a wry chuckle.

She hangs up, sets her jaw in frustration and tosses her phone between her hands.

"Everything okay?", Ansel asks quietly, eyeing her warily.

"Umm, I'm not sure actually", she replies weakly, rubbing her neck before picking her phone back up and redialling.

It's about to ring out again anyway when Walter calls them back over.

On the ten metre walk back to the set, she physically tries to shake it off and put it out of her mind. "Debora, Debora, Debora", she whispers to herself, trying to get her head back into character.

>

It doesn't work. She's feeling anxious and distracted. And grateful the camera was focused on Ansel for these takes; she would have bombed.

As soon as they're on the next quick break to touch up Ansel's make up, she dashes to check her phone again.

"Oh, fuck!", she grumbles, seeing he'd tried returning her call twice.

Jabbing at her screen, she chews her lip nervously as it rings again.

She's losing hope when it suddenly stops ringing and there's a muffled fumble.

"Harry? Are you there?".

"Fuck, shit, sorry! Dropped my phone... El, baby? Hi".

"Sorry, we're in the middle of shooting. I've literally got ten seconds. I can't talk, but I saw all your calls and I'm worried. Just tell me, is everyone okay?", she asks quickly, fearing the worst.

"Yes, everyone's okay. Sorry I missed you, I was with the lawyers again...".

"Eloise!", Walter calls.

"Lawyers? On a Friday night? H, what's going on?".

He sighs. "El, baby, we really need to talk".

"ELOISE!".

"Shit. I've got to go. I'll call as soon as I can, I promise".

>

An agonising hour later, wrapped for the day, she checks her phone on the way to her trailer.

There are no further missed calls from Harry. Just one text message.

"Hoping you still have the weekend off? Booked you a ticket home. Leaves Atlanta just before 10pm tonight. Ticket in your inbox. If you can come, please do .x".

Now she's really worried.

Perching on the edge of the vanity, she checks the email for the flight details.

It's nearing 5.30pm now, and with rush hour traffic, she won't have time to go via her hotel.

She always has her passport in her handbag; having learned the hard way when she started modelling to always be prepared and ready to drop everything for a late booking.

And she figures she has everything else she needs at home in Hampstead, anyway. Well, she presumes he's in Hampstead.

It's after midnight there and he'd sounded exhausted, so she forgoes a call and just texts him back.

"On my way. With you by lunchtime. Love you xx".

She flags down a runner outside her trailer and asks them to change her car booking.

After quickly stripping out of her wardrobe and wiping off her makeup, she heads straight for the airport, straight for him. 

>  
>

19th March 2016

After all the drama and intrigue, Eloise was half hoping Harry would be at the airport to meet her.

Instead, turning on her phone as soon as she lands, there's just another text.

"Caught up in meetings with the lawyers, sorry. Greg's on his way for you. He'll text you where to meet. Sorry and I love you, so much. I'm sorry .x".

She winces. More lawyers. Three sorry's. What the fuck is going on? She can't bring herself to reply.

>

She gazes at the fattening droplets racing down the car window. The steely grey skies and heavy drizzle match her bleak mood. She feels like a twelve year old acting out a music video, but can't quite bring herself to snap out of it.

In hindsight, letting her mind wander and dream up ridiculous improbable scenarios probably wasn't the best way to pass the time during the drive from Heathrow to Hampstead. It hadn't helped on the plane either. She's feeling tense and strung out.

Hearing Greg mumble into his phone that they're two minutes away, Eloise focuses on the familiar leafy road, shrinking back in her seat as the feeling of dread only intensifies.

She's feeling nauseous. But that might be because she hasn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday. Can't quite stomach anything.

She'd barely slept on the plane either, tossing and turning despite the fully flat First Class seat.

As the gate opens remotely, she spots Harry immediately as Greg pulls in. Loitering by the patio doors, hair dishevelled and askew, pacing as he is; she's never seen him look so stressed.

Thanking Greg hurriedly, she opens the door before he's even come to a stop.

>

Harry steps into the rain to meet her halfway to the house, pulling her straight into a tight hug before she can get a good look at his face.

"Thank you so much for coming. God, I've missed you", he whispers lowly in her ear.

As he turns to pull her quickly inside, she spots a bunch of people through glass patio doors and tugs him back.

"H, please... Just tell me? I can't bear it", she pleads.

His face and shoulders fall as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before reaching for her other hand.

"Jeff and the publicists got phone calls yesterday afternoon asking for comments about the hack".

"What hack?".

"Exactly. We've been trying to find out, but all we know so far is that it's photos from iCloud. And they're being published in the tabloids tomorrow. We haven't seen them yet, but think they've been stolen from my mum's account".

She's stunned silent, gaping at him.

Swerving past him, she steps into the house.

She can feel the tense vibes from everyone else, scattered across the kitchen and dining room. Anne, Robin, Jeff, his publicists, plus a few men she's never seen before.

He follows quickly behind her, tugging her back around to face him. "El, please say something. I'm so sorry about this-".

"That's it?".

"What do you mean 'that's it'?".

"Photos? And tabloids? Are you kidding me?", she scoffs.

"For fuck's sake, Harry! I've been worried sick, imagining all sorts of terrible scenarios", she says exasperatedly, with a distinct wobble in her voice.

"Oh, God, El, I'm sorry", he pulls her back into another tight hug, pressing a long kiss to her forehead.

"We don't know what they have. Like I said, we haven't managed to get hold of the pictures yet", he explains more softly.

"Well, then we'll worry about that when we see them", she says calmly, pulling back to look him in the eye as she rakes his damp hair back into place. "But never bloody do that to me again". There's that Cadogan fire.

"How are you so calm? This could change everything?".

"How? Why? I already dislike paps and tabloids and social media too", she shrugs, confused. "Wait... Why would you think this will change how I feel about you? About us?", she steps back from him a little. "Should I be worried, Harry?", she asks directly.

"No. Well, I don't know... We don't know what they have".

"But is there's anything you'd be worried about them having?".

"I don't want anyone stealing anything private", he says sternly, shaking his head at her in confusion for a moment before he realises what she's getting at.

Then he puts his hands on her shoulders, eyeing her imploringly. "Oh, God, no, Eloise! Absolutely nothing from all of last year, I swear".

As he runs his hands down her arms to find her hands again, he realises she's shaking.

"Oh, El. I'm sorry, for worrying you".

She sighs in relief, "H, whatever this is, we'll face it together, okay?". Then finally pulls him in for a kiss.

>

Seeing Anne's crestfallen and tear-stained face over Harry's shoulder, Eloise squeezes his waist before peeling off, and heads over to pull her into a tight hug and telling her not to worry. 

Anne promptly bursts into fresh tears, mumbling apologies and admitting how guilty she feels.

>

Pulling back, Eloise turns back to Harry, but acknowledges everyone else in the room too. "So there's nothing else we can do until they're published, right?". Jeff shakes his head, no.

"Well, okay then. I'm here for less than twenty four hours and I don't intend to waste them all worrying unnecessarily... I need a shower then some food", she says, matter of factly.

Kissing Anne on the cheek, she steps towards Harry, squeezing his arm as she reaches down past him for her bag, then heads for the stairs.

She backtracks quickly down them again, eyeing him with his arms braced against the kitchen island unit, head hanging low. "H?".

He snaps his head up to look at her.

"That was an invitation. Come on", she gestures up the stairs, hand outstretched to him.

>

Sitting opposite each other in his oversized bathtub, surrounded by towering bubbles, Eloise tries to distract Harry. Tries to make him laugh. Tries to make him talk.

He's not in the mood.

Well, he's definitely in a mood; quiet, sullen, apprehensive.

But not that mood.

She snakes her toes up the inside of his thigh, inching higher until she gently tickles his balls and strokes along his length.

Shifting, he sighs and leans his head back against the edge of the tub.

She frowns. He's never been non-plussed at her affections before.

Trying again, with a little more pressure, she tries a playful wiggle of her toes. But nothing. 

She's never not managed to get a rise out him - literally - and can't help but think it stings a little.

"Babe, I'm not-, I'm sorry-".

"Well, that's a first", she whispers, unable to keep the playful grimace from her face, trying to break the awkwardness.

"Sorry. God, it's not you, it's... Ugh, I can't turn my brain off from stewing over it all", he grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Tell me why, H? Why are you so worried?", she nudges him again. Her foot under his hand in the water this time.

He gives her a squeeze and starts distractedly trailing his fingers up and down the sharp bone of her shin.

She tries again. "You've weathered dick pics and kiss and tells and made up exposés... What's got you in knots this time?".

"You!", he says, impassioned. "Because it's you, and it's us. And the thought of anything risking that... That they get to profiteer off that makes me feel physically sick".

"The sentiment's sweet, Harry, but I think you're overreacting", she says gently.

"Of course I'm not", he scoffs, offended. "I know how important privacy is to you, El. You've been amazing about everything and all the crazy shit that comes with being with me so far, but this will change things".

"It doesn't sound like you have much faith in me and how I'll react", she winces.

"Not that. Ugh... I don't know how far back they went, but just think, Mum took so many fucking pictures on that trip alone. We were all over each other".

"Hey, this isn't her fault-".

"I know, I know", he holds his other hand up. "But with so many shots and angles, they'll finally get your name. Then things will go crazy and it'll be a feeding frenzy, and I know you don't want that".

"Harry, I want you. That's it. And if this is a part of that package deal, then I'd still sign up, every single time, in a heartbeat", she says, sitting up, leaning closer and looking him directly in the eye.

"I won't freak out and run over this, I promise. We'll figure it out together, and we'll weather whatever storm is heading our way, together. Okay?".

Surging forward, he sloshes water over the edge of the tub in his haste to reach her. He pulls her back with him, spilling more water, to drape her over him.

Cupping her jaw, eyes flitting between hers, he pulls her in for a kiss, desperate to convey the depth of his love and appreciation for her.

>

"Oh, hello!", she pulls back, shifting as she grins lasciviously, glancing down towards his lap.

"What can I say, you've talked me down", he smirks slyly.

"Up, no?", she says cheekily.

"Shut it and kiss me", he laughs - finally - before pulling her back in.

"God, I love you. I've missed you so much", he whispers reverently, flipping her sodden hair behind her shoulder as she scoots forward on his lap.

>

As afternoon makes way to evening, he's less tense, but still anxious.

That the house is buzzing with the nervous energy of the task force of managers, publicists and lawyers doesn't help. Expecting the story to break in the morning editions, some are planning to stay, to be up early, at the ready.

The lawyers have been on calls with Apple and cyber crime liaisons all day, but without much progress. Until they have the photos as proof of a crime, there's not much they can do.

They order in a big Indian takeaway before having an early night.

>

Eloise is trying to stay on Atlanta time so feels wide awake still.

As soon as they're in bed with the lights out, he suddenly feels shattered, but desperately wants to stay awake for her, keen to make the most of their precious time together.

But her cording her fingers through his hair and scalp has him dropping off in seconds.

She lies awake for hours; the raking action soothing her as much as him. Lost in her thoughts, she's grateful for this wonderful man, but apprehensive about what the morning will bring.


	2. Part B

20th March 2016

Eloise cranes her neck up with a start. Having had her head buried in Harry's pillow, as she sucks a deep breath, her senses flood with the smell of his cologne and shampoo and him.

Bending an arm up to rest on her elbow, she rubs a hand over her face and lets out a deep yawn.

She's not sure when she finally fell asleep, but she fell hard.

Frowning as she registers an unfamiliar noise from downstairs, she stills to try to work out what it is.

In a moment of realisation, her face falls before she leaps from the bed in a tangle of limbs, stumbling to the ensuite bathroom, only vaguely registering the early dawn light seeping through the blurred windows.

After hastily brushing her teeth, she pulls on his lilac dressing gown. Grabbing her phone off the nightstand, she hurries out the bedroom door and down the stairs.

>

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Eloise stops scrolling through the notifications jamming her phone and pauses to take in the scene in front of her.

Anne, looking tired and dishevelled, stands boiling the kettle, staring distractedly through the window into the garden.

The lawyer and publicist, dressed disarmingly casually, hover around the dining room table.

Jeff stands with one hand tugging his hair, the other hovering over Harry's shoulder.

He's leaning over the table, arms straight and head bowed. In grey sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt, she can see the tense hunch to his rounded shoulders.

"What are you talking about? This changes everything. They've got her name and already tracked this down... Fuck", he spits out.

She's never heard that tone to his voice before, and can't help but think that the rain pelting against the patio doors matches his dark mood.

Feeling shaken, she takes a deep breath and tentatively steps forward through the kitchen and into the dining room.

Anne clocks her in her peripheral vision as she passes. Eloise can't quite make out her expression and is too intent on Harry to take the time to figure it out.

"What changes what?", she asks hesitantly, stepping through the doorway as she pockets her phone.

The mood in the room only gets tenser as they all look up at her, grim faced.

When Harry just hangs his head down and lets out a deep breath, her step falters. Whatever this is has to be bad. Shit.

Squaring her shoulders, she steps next to him, not quite touching, and casts her eyes over the dining room table and the freshly printed photos covering its surface.

As her eyes scan them briefly, too quickly to take in all the detail, she tries to cut the tension. "Well, there can't be anything too steamy, from your mum's account, right?". How bad can it be?

Harry's scoff is interrupted by the publicist cutting in. "Is there anything steamy we should be worried about? Anywhere?", she asks, flatly, as the lawyer looks on, staring intently between her and Harry.

"No! We're not stupid", Harry snaps, affronted, but still not looking at Eloise. Or his mum.

As the awkward silence descends, she looks at the photos more closely. She can't help but smile at what she sees.

There are lots of him without her.

God, he's so handsome.

There are some cute ones of the pair of them.

One of her sitting on his lap in a bikini.

Him dipping her playfully in a slow dance on the deck at dusk.

A candid one of them at sunset, shot in profile, heads together and hands intertwined, looking out to sea.

There are some funny ones.

Them laughing, both tied inside his dressing gown in front of his mum's Christmas tree.

The one of them pressed close in a dinghy, wearing only swimwear and matching Captain hats, pulling funny faces at the camera.

There are some group shots.

One of her sandwiched between Harry and Anne, overlooking the beach, with Ellen, James and Ben talking in the background.

The shot Anne had ventured on to the back of a jet ski for, of them all leaping off the top deck into the turquoise sea, Eloise and Harry hand in hand.

The sequence of their ill-fated human pyramid on deck. James, Ben and Harry on the bottom; Julia and Eloise in the middle; Mer on the top, with Jeff and Glenne hovering close by. There's the initial shot, all smiling and laughing looking to camera, pyramid intact. Then the mid-shot as the girls react and lose their balance after Mer's hand slipped on Julia's suncream-slicked back. Then the aftermath; an ungainly heap of bodies, limbs tangled, crying with laughter, Eloise collapsed against Harry's back.

There are a couple from the final shows too. With the boys, backstage; her very much a part of the inner circle.

The intimacy captured in each of the photos - whether affection, happiness, touching, kissing - and the variety of locations, surrounded by family, all point to an established and serious relationship.

"We look so happy", she nudges Harry, running her fingers over the photo in front of the Christmas tree. "They're lovely pictures, Anne", she turns to look behind her, offering a soft smile in reassurance.

It turns into a frown as she turns back around and scans over them again. "I'm not sure the 'just friends' line will still fly though", she says, fingering the snap of her on his lap as he toys with the tie of her bikini bottoms.

Frown deepening at his silence, she turns to face him, crossing her arms. "What? So they'll get my name and have pretty compelling proof we're together... At least there's nothing scandalous, right?", her chuckle quickly tails off. No one else laughs.

He scoffs derisively again and brushes past her to drag the laptop over from where it sits at the end of the table.

Silently, he spins it around to her, open on the TMZ website. The 'Harry's Style: Girlfriend Revealed in Exposing Personal Photos' headline runs above the photo of her in a bikini on his lap, with her name splashed across the sub-header. She has to peer closer to make out the darker, smaller photo alongside it.

Harry makes her jump, slapping a grainy printed copy of the photo down on top of the keyboard. 

Cutting her eyes up to him at the brusque action, she snatches it up and looks closely.

It's her, topless, pressed up against his chest, locked in a kiss; a dark haired man, but one that's plainly not Harry.

She gasps in shock, dropping it on the table and backing up, shooting him a nervy look.

"Well... Fuck", he finally grits out at her response. The first words he's spoken to her.

"When was that?", he demands in a tone he's never used with her. Short, sharp, simmering with fury and loud enough to cut through her.

She physically recoils. "What?", she implores, shocked expression giving way to hurt.

"You know exactly when it was. I told you all about it", she says pointedly, trying to temper her natural spiky reaction to conflict, desperate to keep a semblance of calm.

"Huh? I think I'd remember you cheating on me", he spits.

After a beat of stunned silence, she rounds on him, furious. Fuck keeping her cool, she's instantly livid.

"Wow... War and fucking Peace, Harry", she snarls, screwing up the photo into a ball and lobbing it at him; eyeing his usually handsome features, twisted and unfamiliar in his anger.

Snatching her phone out of her dressing gown pocket, she's already jabbing at the screen as she steps around him; muttering "Pick up, pick up..." as she stalks out the room and stomps upstairs.

>

A while later, Eloise storms back down, showered and dressed. Not much calmer.

All talking ceases as she strides across the kitchen and sits at a bar stool at the island. Silently, she pulls over Harry's laptop and lets her fingers fly across the keyboard.

After a few minutes of awkward coughs and the hushed conversations between Jeff and the lawyer filtering through from the dining room and Anne and Harry by the patio doors, she clears her throat as she tucks her phone under her ear. Voicemail, perfect.

"Lisa, it's Eloise. Sorry to call so early. Glad I only got your voicemail. Look, something's come up and I've booked a later flight, getting into Atlanta at 8pm tonight. I'll update you later, but please can you cancel the car you booked for me? I'll just get a taxi from the airport. Thanks lady".

She sighs and flashes her eyes at Harry's scoff from across the kitchen, before resuming her typing and clicking.

The awkwardness only builds until she sits back from the laptop and turns it around, gesturing to him with a sweep of her arm.

She's pulled up the photo from the article alongside the original uncropped version, with crew members, camera and lighting rig all clearly visible.

"I had the behind the scenes photographer send me all the shots. And, no, before you go hurling accusations, I didn't cheat with him either", she snipes, standing up and pushing the laptop towards him on the other side of the island. "Knock yourself out. Every single one of the raw photos from that afternoon on set is in that folder; totally unedited".

She holds his angry eye contact until he silently steps forward, adjusting the angle of the screen to look.

With that, she spins on her heel and stalks into the living room, closing the door pointedly behind her.

She just hopes he's distracted enough to not start asking how the shot came to be leaked in the first place. That's a can of worms she can't face opening right now; but the violation stings, whoever's to blame.

>

She's lost in her thoughts, curled up on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, staring out the window at the rain.

With a soft knock on the door, Anne interrupts, holding out a coffee for her.

"Can I join you?", she asks hesitantly. Eloise nods, patting the sofa beside her before taking the mug and offering her thanks with a sigh.

"He's talking to Jeff and the lawyer again", she says softly, in explanation. "Oh, love, this is all my fault. It's such a mess, I'm so sorry".

Eloise turns to face her and squeezes her hand as she shakes her head, fervently. "They stole from you, Anne. It's horrible, criminal".

"He's beside himself", Anne tries to defend Harry's behaviour. "He's just been so stressed about the photos and so worried about you in all this, about the media working out who you are and how that will affect your relationship".

Feeling Eloise bristle, she tries to explain it. "He saw that photo and just crumpled. It's shock and worry, that's all it is".

"No, Anne. It's more than that. He accused me of cheating, without even giving me the benefit of the doubt", she says, flatly, brokenly.

"Well, it didn't look good...", Anne tries to reason. Ouch.

Eloise flashes her a hurt look. "To everyone else, maybe. But he knows the shitty story behind that picture. God, I told him everything on, what, day three? I've been nothing but honest and upfront about it all. So for him to throw that, ugh, James, in my face feels like a sucker punch. That really hurt".

"Oh, darling. I'm so sorry-".

"No. He must have been stewing on this for a while. I hate that he hates it, but what am I supposed to do?", she pleads, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

>

Eloise stays holed up in the living room, fielding calls from her family, friends, agents, publicists, producers and even a few opportunistic journalists.

Eventually, Harry closes the door softly behind him and crosses the room to sit on the coffee table in front of her with a sigh, hanging his head.

"I'll have to call you back", she says hurriedly, before tossing her phone across the sofa.

Eyeing each other warily, there's an awkward, uncomfortable silence for about five seconds, which only serves to rile her back up again.

She huffs out a breath in frustration. "I cannot believe you accused me of cheating on you", she seethes. "What, will you hurl something about Ansel at me next?".

He winces, before squaring his shoulders and sitting up straighter. "I should have given you the benefit of the doubt, even in the heat of the moment", he concedes. "I'm sorry... But, fuck, I wish I could un-see all those photos from set. Shit, El...", he rakes a hand roughly over his face.

"Oh, grow up! I deal with hundreds of photos of fans all over you every day and I still trust you".

"That's totally different! I'm not being paid to pretend to love them", he says lowly.

"Aren't you, though?", she hurls back.

But there we have it. She's furious he doesn't trust her when she has to trust him and keep faith every single day, with all those lovesick fans and flirty journalists and touchy feely celebrities and millions of people who want him.

"I can't believe you don't trust me when I've given you the benefit of the doubt hundreds of times". She's pushing his buttons.

He sits there, visibly tense. On edge about the leak, he snaps. They have a spat about double standards.

"Of course I'm going to hate any guy being all over you, Eloise. What would it say if I didn't?".

"That you trust me, for starters! It's supposed to be art, Harry. I wouldn't do it frivolously; only when it's integral to a story... Good to know what you think of my standards though. Wow".

"It's exploitative! People will end up manipulating that shit into YouTube edits and posting them on fucking porn sites".

"But I have to hear you sing about other girls, and watch you flirt with 50,000 of them a night, and hug fans who are in love with you?".

"That's different!".

"How? Come to set if you could bear it. I've got nothing to hide on this. This isn't about exploitation or jealousy, it's about trust".

"Of course it's about jealousy!", he shouts. "I can't help it if the thought of anyone else with what's mine kills me".

"Wow! Stop digging, Harry", she says lowly.

The awkward, bristling silence is back.

She appears to relent first. "Look, I'm yours. And I love you entirely. And I have zero interest in anyone else", she says more softly.

"But I am no one's property. This is my career and my decision", she adds more firmly, albeit with a distinct wobble in her voice.

Desperate not to cry in front of him, she stands abruptly, snatches her phone from the sofa and stalks over to the door.

"Just... Think about it", she says brokenly, before slamming the door behind her.

>

Nearing 11.30am, she comes back down with her bag packed; killing the conversations in the kitchen again as she stalks in, grabbing the last banana from the fruit bowl.

She hasn't eaten anything all morning and feels sick with worry, but needs to avoid the risk of ending up fainting somewhere.

After pressing the button on the wall to open the gates, she stands right in front of Harry, where he leans against the worktop, sullenly.

"I love you, Harry. But I can't say I like you very much right now and I have to go".

There's a beat of excruciating silence as his eyes dart between hers. Dull and tired and suspiciously red, both sets of irises are missing their usual sparkle on this gloomy day.

Rolling her eyes at his brooding silence, she reaches to squeeze Anne's hand in farewell, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and walking dejectedly towards the door.

She pauses after just a few steps before rounding on him again, seething.

"Fuck this, I can be stubborn too! What a waste of a precious morning together", she shakes her head in disappointment before shrugging.

"Well, I don't care. Tell them," she throws a look at Jeff, "To try to negate the story with 'Just good friends'... Sounds about right", she scoffs, turning away from Harry after a final scathing look.

"Good luck in France, I guess", she parries over her shoulder with a shrug as she steps dejectedly out the door, all the fight draining from her like the rain pooling on the paving stones.

>

Harry dashes around the bonnet of the car as it's about to pull through the gates.

She watches in silent shock as he pulls open her door and crowds her, reaching in to undo her seatbelt before he catches himself. He leans back out and holds his hand up, asking her softly, "Please, El. Get out the car, just for a minute".

After a stunned pause, she does.

Pacing, he pulls at his hair in anguish before letting out a deep breath and rounding on her. Intense green eyes brimming.

"What was that? 'Fuck this' and 'Just friends' and 'Good luck in France'? Are you giving up on me, on us, over this?", he blurts, eyes darting over her face.

"You can't. Please...", he begs, choking out a sob as his tears finally spill. "I'm so, so sorry for how I reacted. That was so wrong of me. But you promised-".

His broken expression crushes her, dampening her short fuse.

She realises she's never seen him cry, and she hates it. Despite everything, with each wobble of his chin, she resolves never to make him cry again. She can't bear it.

Her tears spill over too, in sympathy.

"Oh, H-", she steps closer and wraps her arms tightly around him as he buries his face in her neck. She cords her fingers into the tendrils at his neck, escaping his messy bun. "No, I didn't mean that. I'm hurt... And I'm cross, but I didn't mean that. Sorry, for making you think that, for making you worry".

She leans back to look him in the eye. "I already moved my flight back and I can't miss this one. I really have to go, but I'll call you when I land. I promise you that too, okay?", she nods. "Just do some thinking, please. Because we need to find a way to work around this, alright? I love you, Harry".

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry", he stutters. "I love you too, so much".

They share a snuffily, teary kiss. Their only one of the morning.

"I hate saying goodbye to you", he whispers.

"We'll be alright", she promises.

"I love you", he pecks her again.

"I love you too, so much", she echoes.

After a final kiss, he helps her back into the car, overhearing as the driver warns her about the paps out front. "Shit", he groans, looking to her worriedly.

"I'll be fine, H", she promises with a hesitant, fake smile.

He pulls off his black hoodie and drapes it over her. Inhaling deeply, she's immediately comforted by the scent of him.

As the car pulls out the drive, he crumples into a fold, bracing his arms on his thighs, sucking in deep breaths.

His mum steps out the patio doors and hurries over, rubbing a hand over his back before pulling him up and throwing her arm around his waist to steer him back inside and out the rain, whispering words of comfort.

>

On her way to the airport, the traffic slow in the heavy rain, Eloise is reflective.

She feels shaken by all the intrusion and the allegations. But she's more upset by how strained things feel with Harry. It's their first proper argument and both of them handled it pretty terribly. She's upset and hurt and regretful.

Trouble in paradise?

Plucking her headphones from her bag, she swipes her phone to do not disturb and hits shuffle. She turns inward and resolves to ignore everyone between here and stepping on set tomorrow.

She just needs a break; a proper time out.

Getting one from her racing thoughts isn't so easy.

>

Hours and thousands of miles later, in the car back to her hotel in a similarly drizzly Atlanta, she turns her phone back on.

Casting an eye over tomorrow's hectic schedule, she groans.

With a deep, shaky breath, she stares out the window as it rings.

"Baby..." he finally drawls lowly, sleepily.

"Sorry, did I wake you?", she asks quietly. Of course she did, it must be after 3am there.

"Must've fallen asleep on the sofa..." he yawns, stretching. "But thank you, for calling".

After a few seconds of strained silence, he takes a shaky breath and begins.

"I've done some thinking, like you asked... I'm just so, so sorry, Eloise. I handled that horribly. I know how important privacy is to you, and I was sick with worry that the hack would change things for you. Then you handled it amazingly - thank you, for being like that with my mum, by the way, she'd been in bits".

She hears him swallow noisily.

"Anyway, I woke up early and realised we hadn't talked about what we'd say. And I was watching you sleep and just thinking how I'd love to go public and finally shout from the bloody rooftops about how much I love you".

She can hear the grin on his face.

"But then Jeff fucking stuck his head around the door to show me that article and that picture, and I just lost it... I was confused and furious and terrified at the thought of losing you".

He's talking uncharacteristically fast now, desperate to get his words out and explain himself before he loses his nerve.

"I wasn't thinking straight and I couldn't have handled it any worse. Of course I was jealous. The thought of you with anyone but me literally kills me. It makes me crazy... But you are everything to me. You don't know what you mean to me or the power you have over me".

He hears her suck in a shaky breath, but continues.

"Look, I cant say I'll ever be thrilled at the prospect of you filming that stuff, but I get it. And I'm so, so proud of everything you've done already, and everything you will achieve. I trust you, implicitly; it's just every other man I can't trust. Not with you".

She hears the anguished whine in the back of his throat.

"Because I pinch myself every single day that you've chosen me, and I'm terrified that I'll fuck this up because you're the very best thing that's ever happened to me".

There's nothing but charged silence for a beat, both holding their breaths.

"I'm so sorry, Eloise. And I love you so much. You're my everything and, honestly, that terrifies me a bit. So I'm sorry if it makes me a bit crazy. But I'm crazy, for you".

There's an agonising beat after he lets out a deep sigh, totally spent. "Shit, El, are you still there...?", he asks in a desperate, panicked whisper.

"Oh, Harryyyyy", she sniffs, tears leaking down her cheeks. "You had me at 'Baby'... Why didn't you say all that earlier? I wouldn't have been able to leave-", she sobs, unable to say much more.

She just needs to get back to her empty hotel room, crawl into bed and have a good cry, let it all out.

"Oh, baby, I hate that you're so cut up about this. We'll talk properly in the morning, okay? I love you, El, so much".

"You... too", she hiccups, swiping her tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Just promise me you'll stay off social media", he adds. "Don't read anything".

Well, that's ominous.

>  
>

25th March 2016

She didn't. Twitter is toxic.

And he could tell she was down each time they spoke on the phone.

Being dragged into meetings with the film's publicists and calls with her agency didn't help her low mood.

And it doesn't improve much over the course of the week. She just can't seem to shake it.

Having just wrapped after a long week, she's loitering outside her trailer, stubbornly refusing Ansel's efforts to get her to come out for Friday night drinks.

"Look, I really appreciate it, but I'd just be a downer. Give me the weekend to pull my head out my arse and I'll be more fun next week", she promises.

Bustling into the trailer and tugging off her, well, Harry's hoodie, she lets out a shout in fright when she finds him standing unexpectedly in front of her, hovering nervously by the small sofa.

"What are you doing here?", she gasps, surprised and shocked and flustered.

Arms tangled in the sleeves, he steps over and helps her out before cupping her face, reverently.

"I've missed you so much. I know you're not okay, and I can't bear it. We need to properly fix this", he says softly, eyes darting between hers in concern as she starts tearing up.

They spill as she throws her arms around his neck and surges in to kiss him.

In his arms again, she feels more like herself than she has all week.

"Guess I must be a bit crazy for you too", she says against his lips with a soft grin.


	3. Part C

April - May 2016

Once she returned to London, they only had a few weeks together before they were due to be separated again. His imminent departure for France to start prepping for Dunkirk loomed large.

Things were just getting back to normal between them, settled into a daily routine largely revolving around his time writing in the studio and his heavy training schedule. She'd been busy too, with her script; absolutely loving writing with Phoebe, who she'd partnered up with after meeting at a Netflix event.

With the uneasiness of her time in Atlanta still fresh, the impending pressure of long distance weighed heavy on their minds. It wasn't helped when she had to fly suddenly to New York after securing a lucrative Tom Ford fragrance campaign, missing his precious last couple of days.

Busy on her shoot day, she missed his Instagram post, so almost had a fit when he sent her a selfie with that terrible shaggy chopped hair during the Another Man photoshoot.

He laughed with glee when she jokingly told him he's lucky she always had a bit of a weird crush on Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber. But he'd been a tease and refused to send her a proper picture of the final cut.

Later that month, the distance only increased when she'd packed up and moved into his LA house, ready to start prepping and rehearsing for Daisy Jones & The Six.

>

Their first proper taste of long distance over an extended period of time was proving even harder than they imagined.

With intense and conflicting schedules, plus the added headache of the time difference, they've had to make a real effort to snatch what precious little time they can have with each other, regardless of how busy, tired or not in the mood they might be. But relationships take work, even adoring and fiercely passionate ones.

The proof was in their astronomical phone bills. And they both racked up some air miles too, making the most of rare syncing of their schedules to snatch a couple of fleeting visits.

But hanging out with each others friends and family helped when their schedules felt impossible and kept them apart. As did the running countdown of when they'd see each other next.

They'd made it a game to sneak that day's number into one of their daily calls or texts; but sometimes they had different numbers in mind.

>  
>

18th June 2016

Eloise jolts awake with a start in his massive bed.

Hearing a noise downstairs she stills; holding her breath, heart pounding.

Again. Like a scrape of something heavy. Shit.

She leaps out of bed, tugs down his oversized t-shirt, grabs her phone and tip toes towards the stairs.

Stilling at the top, she listens carefully, holding her breath.

"Would you two keep it down?", he hisses.

"You asked me to find a knife. I'm trying!", she sasses back, before getting shushed again.

Eloise slinks down the stairs and peers around the doorway into the kitchen. Barking a laugh she jumps out, "You four would make the worst burglars!".

They spin around in surprise before breaking into laughter. Shouting "Happy Birthday", they pull her into hugs and smother her with kisses.

"What are you doing here? I thought I was seeing you all later?".

>

By the time she'd managed to kick Ben, Mer, Rosie and Adele out after breakfast to jump in the shower, she's running late.

Wincing as she eyes the clock on the dashboard of Harry's Range Rover, she sends a prayer to the birthday gods to cut her some slack with the traffic.

>

They obviously weren't listening.

Stuck in traffic, on her way to work, on a Saturday, on her birthday? Meh.

Working on a Saturday, on her birthday, because Reese Witherspoon asked them to showcase the songs they've been rehearsing to Stevie fucking Nicks?

Well, happy birthday to me, she grins. Fairly sick with nerves, but brimming with excitement.

She has her head down, rummaging in her bag as she bustles through the studio door, begging apologies.

Finally digging her phone out - it had been ringing and pinging the whole drive over - she stops scrolling through the reams of notifications when she notices the quiet.

Looking up, she bursts out laughing. The assembled producers, techs and her cast mates are all wearing long red Daisy wigs and party hats.

After a flurry of hugs, she quickly finishes scrolling through her notifications. She smiles at a few, but can't help but feel disappointed to have still not heard from Harry. She figures he must be back shooting in the water all day; poor baby.

The irony isn't lost on her that she's in a recording studio whilst he's on a movie set. Talk about a role reversal.

Silencing her phone, she tosses her bag down, dropping on to the squishy sofa between Sam, playing Billy, and Suki, playing Karen.

Probably no coincidence that she gravitates to the only other two Brits in the room, feeling a little homesick on her birthday.

>

Half of the beauty of the book is the evocative clues to let the reader create the band's sound in their own mind.

That they now have the opportunity to define and create that sound is hugely exciting; but with the music so integral to the story, the film and its appeal, it also feels like a huge responsibility.

Reese had assembled a strong cast - some established, some more up and coming. All talented actors, for sure, but equally proficient singers, musicians and, most importantly, music lovers.

The seven of them had spent much of their last six weeks of rehearsals indulging in sharing vintage references and samples. Harry's collection had been a veritable treasure trove for Eloise.

They're all very much aware that the integrity of the music is Stevie's top priority, so are apprehensive to share what they have so far with her today.

Trying to capture that sun-drenched vibe of the seventies Californian scene, they're working hard to keep the sound fresh and a little rough around the edges.

For Eloise, half the challenge is in letting loose enough. But it's a weighty enough task as it is.

Her first leading role. A character wildly different from herself, with an accent nothing like her own. Finding an iconic rock singing voice, then varying it to reflect the different influences of drink and drugs. Layer on to that supporting her breath, controlling her technique, harmonising with the band, performing and acting whilst singing. Worriedly, she's starting to realise that this time rehearsing in the studio is actually the easy bit.

She's approaching it like she would choreography. Rehearsing the steps obsessively until the muscle memory is there, then relaxing a little to shake things up and have a little fun, free styling.

Having spent the majority of her waking hours honing Daisy's voice, she's definitely done her homework.

Now is the time to start having some fun.

>

Early afternoon, when most of the others are out grabbing a late lunch, Eloise is alone in the booth.

Stevie and Reese sit alongside the producer at the soundboard, imploring her to let rip and trash her voice.

Regret Me is the rockiest of their rock songs. It's the emotional crux of the film, after things reach a boiling point between Daisy and Billy. It's her pouring her broken heart out to him. Heartbreak; but the livid, fuming, raging kind.

And it's pretty much Eloise's song to carry. No pressure.

"Forget all that pretty training for a bit. Make it raw and ugly. Remember what I said about the uppers and downers and how strung out she'd be? Lose control and let it all out. We won't record it, don't worry, this is just to get a feel for it", Stevie coaches.

'Easy for her to say', Eloise can't help but think, with that natural gravel to her voice and all that innate talent.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

>

As the track progresses, they get increasingly animated, jumping up from their seats and winding Eloise into a frenzy, calling through the headphones for more. Wilder, louder, looser.

By the end of the song, she bends over to catch her breath, totally spent.

Of course they did record it, and Eloise is stunned at the playback, expecting she'd be like a wailing banshee and completely embarrass herself in front of Stevie. But it sounds like it's dripping with emotion and hurt and disappointment.

"Try it again. Start it off like you just ended that, and see how much bigger you can take it", Stevie urges.

Eloise asks them to crank up her headphones. She kicks off her shoes and starts prowling around the booth like a caged tiger, eyes shut, frown marring her face.

>

At Reese's hurried nod through the window in the door, he slips quietly into the room.

Muttering hushed hello's to her and Stevie and hurried introductions to the few of Eloise's cast mates watching on, he takes a seat on the sofa, unable to pull his eyes from the window into the booth. He bursts with pride just looking at his gorgeous girl.

He's immediately taken with the licks and surging beat of the instrumental, but he's not nearly prepared for her opening verse.

Spiky, scratchy, angry. "When you look in the mirror / Take stock of your soul / And when you hear my voice, remember / You ruined me whole".

If he closes his eyes, he'd never know it's Eloise. She sounds nothing like herself, but entirely believable as a preternaturally gifted rock singer.

He tries to picture her with Daisy's long red hair and wonders if he'd even recognise her.

It's disconcerting, having Stevie in the room - it feels like he's listening to her, forty years ago.

He simply cannot reconcile what he's hearing and seeing with his calm, sweet and funny girlfriend. He knew she was talented, but this is something else.

By the final refrain, he's standing up, slack jawed. She's growling, guttural, broken. "One day, you'll regret it / I'll make sure of it before I go". It's heartbreaking.

>

With her chest heaving and tears leaking, Eloise is left reeling when the music fades out. What the fuck was that?

She opens her eyes and breaks into hoarse laughter, seeing Reese and Stevie jumping up and down cheering at the mixing desk.

When she finally spots him behind them, grinning like a fool, the shock renders her stock still and speechless for a beat.

Her face breaks into a grin and she shouts a husky and ragged "No way!", before almost tripping over the mic wire in her haste to get out of the booth.

In her tangle, he heads for the booth door. Winking at Stevie. he leans over her to press a button on the mixing desk to cut the feed from the booth.

He pulls open the door and crowds the doorframe. They still for a stunned second, eyes roving before locking. Beaming green and watery pools of blue.

Then she leaps into his arms. As she takes in the scent of him and the feel of his strong frame, he steps forward to let the door shut behind him, cocooning them in the soundproofed room.

"What are you doing here?", she rasps, leaning back, one hand cupping his jaw, the other raking over the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Happy birthday, my love". He kisses her soundly, twirling her around in his arms.

"That was phenomenal, baby. You absolutely blew me away", he squeezes her tighter.

>

Reese dismisses her for the rest of the afternoon to spend time with him. Her voice isn't up to much more anyway.

On their way out, she introduces him to the rest of her cast mates. He knows Suki from London, but is cryptic when she asks if they have plans for tonight.

Almost out the door, a dramatic sobbing from the studio reception desk startles Harry. Eloise, tucked under his arm, chuckles good naturedly and steers them around with a broad grin on her face.

The affable blonde surfer dude manning the desk looks between the two of them, distraught. "So you weren't lying about the boyfriend, huh?".

She shakes her head with a faux grimace and pats Harry's stomach affectionally.

He's confused. But looking between them both, he clocks her smile and their easy rapport, and relaxes.

"This little minx has turned down my hand in marriage every day for six weeks. She's killing me", the receptionist clues Harry in.

"That, I can sympathise with", Harry chuckles, looking fondly down at her.

"If you'd told me how steep the competition was I'd have backed off. Wow, you two make a smoking hot couple. Nice one man", he nods at him.

"See you Monday, Coop", she laughs with a fond roll of her eyes.

"Only if I survive the heartache", he says dramatically, staring moonily, hand clutched to his heart. Christ, everyone really is an actor in LA.

"Still a 'no' then?", he calls behind them.

"Still a 'no'!", she laughs exasperatedly over her shoulder.

>

Alone at last, he presses her against the passenger door of his Range Rover, distracting her with open-mouthed kisses to her neck as she digs in her bag for the keys.

Finally dropping them into the back pocket of his jeans, she leans back and looks up at him. "I still can't believe you're here... Best present ever!", she surges in to kiss him properly.

Settled in the car and on their way home, they can't keep their hands off each other. He runs his along the seam of her jeans at her inner thigh. She tangles one hand with his in her lap and trails her other through his shorter hair down to his newly exposed neck.

She twists in her seat to stare at him, unashamedly. She'll always have a soft spot for the long curls she fell in love with, but damn, this shorter cut really, really works for him too; drawing attention straight to those incredible eyes, perfect bone structure and fine features. "My God, you look so handsome", she purrs at him. Full on lady boner.

For this journey at least, she's grateful of the traffic, reaching over in any opportune moment to pepper him with playful kisses.

>

Pulling into the garage back at his, he lolls his head on the headrest towards her and grins, dimples popping.

"Two choices. Mercedes, top down, road trip up the coast for a picnic", he wagers with a boyish grin.

"Sounds dreamy", she smiles. "What's number two?".

"Naked. Bed. Now", he smirks.

"How long do I have you?", she checks.

"Only until tomorrow night", he winces.

"Race you upstairs", she grins.

>

He chases her all the way up two flights of stairs. Laughter bubbles from her as he pinches and strokes until he wraps his arms around her waist and pitches them face first on to his bed.

Pinned under his weight and roving hands, she begs for mercy.

He gives none.

Slipping his hands under her to undo her jeans, he slides them teasingly over the curve of her bum. Pausing mid way, he whispers in her ear.

"I had every intention of having you get yourself off for me", he drawls lowly. "For some visuals to accompany those phone calls", he bites at the shell of her ear before soothing it with his tongue. "But now I've got my hands on you... I can't possibly prise them off. Not even for a minute".

She sucks in a shaky breath before pushing back up against him for enough space to flip neatly on to her back. "Tomorrow", she winks before pulling him down for a hot kiss.

When he arches up to tug his t-shirt over his head, she's left drooling. "Fuck me, Harry...".

"Don't have to ask me twice, birthday girl", he quips with a smirk.

In appreciation, she squeezes a bulging bicep, trails her fingers over his defined chest and into the meat of his shoulders. "I know you're hating it, but days on end in the water looks damn good you, baby".

>

They only drag themselves out of bed when the gate buzzer blares.

She stops whining about it as soon as she sees that he'd arranged to have something special dropped off to treat her to an early dinner at the house, just the two of them.

He's in his boxers, manning the barbecue. She's in nothing but his oversized t-shirt, sipping a glass of Dom Perignon on the outdoor sofa on the balcony, eyeing him appreciatively.

If not a little warily. "Careful! There are some bits I'm perfectly happy to have without griddle marks!".

>

Coming up to join her, he drops each half of the huge grilled lobster on their plates. He hadn't let her lift a finger preparing the salad or baking the baguette either.

Topping up their glasses of bubbly, he settles close alongside her and clinks a toast. "Happy birthday, baby".

"It means everything to me that you came, H. God, I love you", she leans up to capture his lips with hers. "I've missed you so much", she sighs.

"Hey, none of that; not today. Just happy stuff, alright? Now dig in, it'll get cold".

After, having laughed their way through trying to get at all that delicious lobster meat without having all the little tools, they wipe each other down and snuggle into the sofa on the balcony just as the sun starts setting.

They finish off the bottle, catching up on the minutiae of the last six weeks. All the little things they can't bear to get into during their precious, snatched conversations. Idle gossip about friends and family. The lowdown on her new cast mates and how they're gelling. How he's really finding shooting the movie and how desperate he is to get back into the studio.

She can't stop raking her nails through the buzzed hairs at the nape of his neck. He can't keep his fingers from dipping teasingly under the hem of her t-shirt.

>

Just before 10pm, better late than never, their car finally pulls up at the curb outside The Nice Guy in West Hollywood.

He'd just about managed to avoid caving to all her prying questions, trying to wheedle details of the evening's plans out of him. Turns out the queen of surprises feels a little disconcerted at being on the receiving end of so many in one day.

Sliding swiftly out, heads down, they make for the slatted wooden door at the end of the monikered matte black wall. Harry steers her inside with a hand on her back, past the flashbulbs of the gathered paparazzi, who are shouting both their names for the first time.

Eloise trots quickly to keep up with his long strides in her strappy heels, leather mini skirt, one of his white t-shirts and her stunning new watch.

Handing her the small wrapped box, he'd said that if she's watching the time anything like as much as he is these days, he wants her to be eyeing something that reminds her of him. Swoon.

They bustle past the melee and head inside, but before the host can greet them, there's a chorus of cheers from the noisy rabble at the leather banquette booth in the corner.

Ben and Mer. James and Julia. Rosie and Jason. Jeff and Glenne. Suki and Sam too. Ansel and his girlfriend. Even Louis - admittedly looking a little dishevelled and sleep deprived.

Adele had left that afternoon for promo in New York. Liam is holed up with Cheryl in London. And Niall is - adorably, Eloise can't help but think - off backpacking in Asia.

Bottles litter the marble table top. They obviously haven't held back in getting started whilst awaiting their arrival.

Glowing light from the statement feature suspended above them plays and dances across all their beautiful features.

Rosie doesn't hold back on complimenting the birthday girl. "Fuck me! You look and sound like sex on legs", she comments on her husky voice and the golden skin on show each time Harry's t-shirt slips off her shoulder. "No wonder he flew thousands of miles, just for one night".

>

It's raucous. Toasting her birthday and his surprise visit, they take another opportunity to wet baby Freddie's head with Louis again too.

When a boozed up guy approaches their table, interrupting James' juicy anecdote, they all stop and stare.

"Hey! Birthday girl, right? Come join us", he slurs slightly, starring intently down at Eloise, eyes roving to Rosie alongside her.

"Err, thanks, but I'm good here", she laughs him off.

He plants a meaty hand on their shoulders. "Come on, we'll show you girls a good time".

"Having a great time already, actually", Eloise shrugs his hand off sharply and turns back around.

Persistent, he drops down and crouches between them. "Don't look too obvious, but don't you recognise who I'm with over there...?".

Rosie scoffs as Harry and Jason both start to interject.

"Excuse me-".

"Mate-".

"Your entourage is way less impressive than you think it is", Rosie sasses, gesturing with a subtle nod of her head around their table.

"Goodbye now. Have a good night", Eloise raises her glass before draining it and turning back around, dismissing him and focusing back on Harry.

"Tosser", she sighs under her breath. He seems outwardly calm, but she reaches to squeeze his thigh under the table in reassurance anyway.

"I don't know, can't exactly blame him for trying, I guess", he shrugs with a sweet smile.

Huh, Harry keeping a lid on the green eyed monster? Definitely progress.

He drops his hand on top of hers and squeezes back. Then drags it up to his crotch. Less sweetly.

"That entourage shit was tragic", James laughs, interrupting them. "Anyway, how long are you here for, H?".

"Just tomorrow night", he winces as Eloise pouts.

"Ah, presume you'll be holed up in bed with this one then and too busy to see us?".

It's Ben's turn to wince. Eloise balls up a napkin and lobs it at James' head.

"Actually we've got plans", he sasses, grinning at Eloise. "A little road trip, right babe?".

"Slick move, young Harold! Well, we better make the most of tonight then. Shots then dance floor?", James challenges.

>

They all hit both hard.

Focusing on the here and now, and each other, Eloise and Harry resolve to worry about the rest of the harder stuff tomorrow; not least another goodbye.

So when Mer elbows Eloise on their way back from the toilets later and she spots who was amongst that sleazy guy from earlier's fêted entourage, she's not quite sure how to take it, but her gut screams at her not to tell Harry. Or Louis, shit.

Even if Zayn didn't know his friend's intentions, they've been making enough noise all night that she figures he at least made an active choice not to say hello.

It looks like they're getting ready to leave anyway, so she asks Mer to keep it between them and resolves to focus her energies on keeping Harry distracted.

Now, that, her gut doesn't have a problem with at all.


	4. Part D

24th August 2016

Eloise ducks her head to exit the tiny plane, pausing at the top of the steps to appreciate the blazing warmth of the Caribbean sun on her face. Grinning broadly, she takes in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the heavy, humid ozone.

It feels like holiday, in an instant. Off duty and off the grid. Literally; they're disembarking at a little private airstrip nestled between the Blue Mountains and the northern coastline.

"Welcome to the island, ladies!", their driver calls up to them, arms outstretched as he rounds the bonnet of the open air jeep idling at the end of the runway.

Eloise skips excitedly down the steps with Glenne hot on her heels. "I'm Carlton, from Geejam", he introduces himself with a broad grin and an infectious, hooting laugh.

Loaded into the jeep, when he pops the lid off an ice box, Glenne cheers and wastes no time grabbing a can of Red Stripe.

Carlton smiles at Eloise in the the rearview mirror. "He said you hate beer. There's water and soda at the bottom. We'll get you a daiquiri soon enough, no problem!", he laughs again.

Over the noise of the dancehall blasting from the radio and the rush of wind assailing her in the back of the jeep, Eloise gives up on trying to hear Carlton's running commentary to Glenne upfront, and instead lets her mind wander as she takes in the scenery.

Lush and vibrant jungle on one side, and on the other, a fringe of palms allows quick glimpses of colourful settlements and tantalising snatches of pristine white sand and the rich blue of the sea, glittering under the midday sun.

Just thirty minutes more and she'll finally be back in his arms again.

>

Eloise had been in LA since the beginning of June, prepping and rehearsing for Daisy Jones & The Six.

Having filmed Dunkirk on and off across France, the Netherlands and the UK since May, Harry had arrived in LA at the end of July for his final few weeks of filming.

With his hectic schedule, ferrying between his home in the Hills to the Universal Studios lot and a secluded Malibu beach, to train for and then shoot the intensive water and flooding boat scenes, they didn't see nearly as much of each other as they'd been hoping for and looking forward to all summer.

She'd been pulling double duty, finalising her script with Phoebe at the same time as prepping for the film. So, more often that not, their only quality time was snatched in bed, late at night or early in the morning, before bleating alarm clocks pulled them apart again.

Once he wrapped filming in mid August, and saw how busy Eloise's schedule was for her final two weeks, Harry decided he needed to find somewhere without any distractions to properly focus on the album again.

He'd intentionally put music entirely on hold whilst working on the film, and as a result, his mind was bursting with ideas that he desperately needed to get down.

Jeff worked his magic, and just days later, Harry and his team were on their way to the iconic Geejam studios in Port Antonio, on Jamaica's remote north coast.

They're due to stay on their writing and recording retreat for up to two months; until late September, when Harry needs to head back to London in time for Ben's wedding.

>

Eloise only has a week and a half before she needs to be back in London herself for meetings, but it still feels like an indulgent break after such a frantic couple of months. She'll take every second she can get with Harry, but is also looking forward to some proper downtime snoozing in the sun whilst he's busy in the studio.

Having wrapped up everything work wise on Monday, she spent yesterday frantically packing and tidying his house, before meeting Glenne for their late red eye flight. She'd fallen asleep before they even took off from LAX and only woken up as they started their descent to land in Jamaica.

Shrugging off her ribbing that she made a terrible travel companion, after lengthy queues at the airport, Eloise had succumbed to another quick nap waiting for their tiny plane. She's feeling less tired now, but in desperate need of a shower and a massage to get the kinks out her neck.

>

As they pull through the gates, Carlton makes a call and hands Glenne his phone. "Jeffrey said to call when we arrive, to find out where they are", he explains.

Jeff's helping Eloise surprise Harry again, arriving a day earlier than he's expecting.

"Studio two. It's an emergency, apparently? He'll meet us outside", Glenne relays, handing the phone back.

"No problem", Carlton nods. "Well, I hope not!", he adds with a chuckle.

Eloise's excited butterflies turn into a swarm of locusts at the word 'emergency'. What could be up, here in paradise? Harry had sounded chipper and excited at their quick progress when she spoke to him yesterday.

After bantering with Carlton and defending her heavy packing - she's heading straight to Autumn in London from here - Eloise coughs exaggeratedly to break up Glenne and Jeff's reunion.

"Oh, come on!", she jokes. "You saw her three days ago in LA! Where's mine?". Harry, not a kiss from Jeff. Obviously. "My guy, I mean...", she clarifies awkwardly.

He laughs and gives her a quick hug. "Mr. Clueless is in a funk today; definitely eager to see you. Come on".

He turns to Carlton, "Thanks, man. Will you drop their bags off at our villa, please?".

>

Eloise eagerly follows Jeff up the stairs, re-tucking her (Harry's) baby blue Zombies vintage band t-shirt into her black denim shorts.

She has to pull up quickly at the top to avoid crashing into him when he pauses to rap his knuckles on the door before popping his head in. "Incoming... Now good?".

She tucks her sunglasses into her neckline, curious when Jeff grins and beckons her in with a finger to his lips.

Once her eyes adjust from the bright sunlight, she has to bite her lip to avoid bursting into laughter.

Harry lays prone on a sofa. "I can't write songs!", he wails dramatically, voice low and ragged, muffled into the cushions.

The five other men in the room, laughing exasperatedly, smile as they cut their eyes from him to the new guests in the doorway.

Judging by the balled up wads of paper littering the floor near the bin in the corner, Eloise deduces they must have been at this impasse for some time. And it must be quite the stalemate to throw off Harry's killer aim.

With a smile, she shakes her head and rolls her eyes fondly, tiptoeing over to perch on the arm of his sofa before piping up. "Jesus, he films one movie and turns into a right diva. Pull yourself together, Styles!".

Harry almost gives himself whiplash, snapping his head up in shock. He pushes up on to his knees before hauling her down and into his lap in a tangle of limbs.

"No fucking way!", he gapes, holding her close. "You...?", he rounds on Jeffrey as the others laugh conspiratorially.

"Hey!", he holds his hands up in defence. "You struggle for inspiration, I deliver a muse... Anything to kibosh the dramatics!", he laughs.

"Oh, no pressure, then?", Eloise pulls back with a laugh before turning back to Harry. "Don't tell me you've forgotten all about me already, hmm?", she sasses before leaning in to peck his lips lightly.

"That's the problem. He can't quite seem to think of anything else", Jeff Bhasker, the long haired executive producer pipes up.

Harry would protest at his landing him in it, but his eager focus on trying to recapture her lips totally gives the game away. He's never had any chill around her anyway.

"But no one wants a full album of sunshine and rainbows", Tyler chips in. "We need some grit and shade too".

"But I'm happy!", Harry laughs, eyeing her moonily with a beaming, dimpled grin.

She smiles sweetly back, before chucking his chin. "Nice try. I'm happy too and I just finished a screenplay about a sociopathic serial killer. Get to it, Styles!", she sasses again, tweaking his nipple for good measure.

At his yelp, Jeff Bhasker laughs. "Oh, I like this one!". He turns to address Eloise, "Help him burn off some of his damn energy too and you'll be worth your weight in gold".

The guys break into shocked laughter at his crass comment. She turns to Jeffrey with a laugh and a raised eyebrow, "Oh, so this is just a conjugal visit then?".

The others cringe as Jeff Bhasker barks another laugh. Eloise turns back to face him, "You've got to try way harder than that to rile me. I grew up at the mercy of three older brothers".

"Well, game on!", he rubs his hands with glee.

Harry groans as he lifts her up off his lap to start making the introductions.

In a riot of clashing colourful Hawaiian shirts, the guys jump up to greet Eloise and Glenne properly. There's Tyler, a songwriter and producer. Alex, a guitarist and producer. Mitch, the lead guitarist and musician extraordinaire. And Ryan, the sound engineer and Mitch's roommate from back in LA.

Alex and Tyler are warm and outgoing. Mitch and Ryan are friendly but more reserved. Jeff Bhasker is zany, bursting with passion and infectious energy.

Jeffrey cuts in, "I'll give the girls a tour; let you guys crack on".

At Harry's pained look, Jeff Bhasker takes pity. "Nah, think we're good for today. We've got enough to crack on with. Go, H... And cut yourself some slack. We had a super productive first week, but we can't keep up that kind of pace for two months straight".

After hastily gathering his things and grasping Eloise's hand, Harry squeezes Jeff on the shoulder in appreciation as he leads them out the door.

>

The two couples wander through Geejam's grounds, taking in the charming and characterful villas and studios dotted around. It's quiet during the day; the soundproofed studios containing all the wizardry unfolding within. Private and discrete, the few other guests they pass seem creative and eclectic.

They chat amongst themselves, catching up on the girls' journey and how the guys have been getting on.

Harry wraps Eloise's blonde hair around his fist, dropping kisses to the nape of her neck. "Don't! I'm all sweaty", she whines, dancing out of his reach and pulling her wavy hair over her shoulder, grimacing at how it's frizzing in the humidity.

It's growing fast, now back below her bra strap, but needs to get towards her lower back in time for the start of filming in two months. She's been chowing down on supplements, trying to keep the threat of extensions at bay.

He tugs playfully at it again as he hip checks her, before slinging an arm around her neck and pulling her close.

"Alrighty then... Monica!", he sasses, rekindling their ongoing game of trading silly Friends references. "One-nil to me", he winks as she groans.

>

Meandering their way down neat pathways, cleaved through lush and colourful gardens, they make their way to Bushbar, the treehouse-like open air restaurant and lounge bar. The scarlet of the cushioned sofas and chairs pops against the vivid greenery of the huge old fig trees it's built around, and the lush rainforest surrounding it.

After the barman insists on making them a round of daiquiris, they continue down the hillside steps to the beach bar. The white sand is dotted with inviting looking cabanas, soft white drapes dancing in the breeze off the sparkling blue water.

They can't resist kicking off their shoes to walk along the lapping shoreline.

>

Puffed after making it all the way back up the hill, Harry and Jeffrey show the girls around Cocosan, their three-level, six bedroom villa.

It's all smooth lines, dark woods and crisp white walls, interspersed with graphic accents and cool artworks. Their oasis and hive of creativity, it's filled to the brim with various instruments and innumerable journals scribbled with lyrics and music.

Out on the deck, the outdoor dining table and seating area, pool and sunloungers have breathtaking views down over the lush vegetation and sparkling sea beyond.

Stepping behind her at the railing, Harry cages his arms around Eloise. "Want to see our room?", he whispers lowly, dropping a kiss behind her ear. He dissolves into a chuckle at her fervent nod in response.

>

She trails her fingers over the frame of the four poster bed as she passes, stepping up to the wide balcony doors overlooking the pool below.

Spinning around as he heaves her suitcases on to the benches inside the wardrobe, she eyes the old typewriter in the corner and can't resist tapping a few keys. She leaves the 'Tuttlefruit' typed note for him to find later. 'One-all', she thinks, grinning to herself. She'll never admit he's the bigger Friends fan, but she'll take the easy points.

Checking out the master bathroom, she moans at the sight of the inviting green tiled dual shower and starts pulling off her clothes immediately.

She's peeling down her knickers when Harry rounds the corner, stopping short and eyeing her greedily.

He catches up quickly and crowds her as he leans to adjust the water pressure.

Dropping his hands to her sides, he runs his fingers from her ribs to her waist down to her hips, pulling her back against his chest.

"You feel tiny, baby", he sighs, running his big hands over her chest and down her stomach, back to her jutting hip bones.

"I've got two months until I need to look passable as an addict", she says with a sigh and a frown marring her forehead. She knows he doesn't like it, but isn't keen to rehash it all again.

"You're doing it sensibly though, right?", he can't help but worry.

She snorts. "Well I've not gone method, so I am steering clear of the heroin", she sasses before reassuring him. "Of course, baby. Just lots of running and no carbs".

"Surely there can't be much more you can lose?", he says, broad palms encircling her narrow waist. "Please just be careful", he implores.

She spins in his arms and looks him in the eye. "I will, I promise. I'm already looking forward to all those glorious carbs to put it back on again", she grins.

Lifting a hand to his chest and the other to his jaw, she angles him down for a steamy kiss.

The water isn't the only thing hotting up.

>

When they hear the other guys downstairs, arriving back from the studio, she rolls off him with a groan to rummage in her suitcase for a bikini.

"Did you bring the yellow one?", he grins from the bed, unabashedly naked, eyes roving her appreciatively.

As she cranes around to toss the skimpy black fabric at his face, she hisses, grabbing at her neck with a grimace.

He jumps up in concern and steps to her, cupping a gentle hand to her neck. Feeling the tense muscles, he drops his fingers down to the top of her shoulder and feels the knots deep in the muscle. "Shit", he sighs sympathetically, "Oh, babe, have you been pretzeled around that laptop again?".

Her nodded response makes her whimper again. "Come on, let me see if I can help", he says softly, steering her back to the bed. He settles close behind her and starts working on her tense muscles.

"Oh, your fingers are fucking magical", she groans, melting into his touch.

"Not the first time you've told me that", he smirks, but the sound of her appreciative moans and groans has him anything but relaxed.

>

Feeling looser and now clad in her yellow bikini - his reward - she eyes the pool from the bedroom balcony. "How deep is it?", she asks curiously.

"Not enough! Trust me, don't even think about it", he laughs, reading her like a book. "Come on", he tugs her hand, leading her straight out the room.

Downstairs, following him through the open plan kitchen diner, she notices their discrete glances, of course.

Keeping an eye on Harry, she clocks a couple of subtle pats on his back. But he just looks relaxed and happy, if a little smug.

Not too long ago, and certainly around his former bandmates, he would have been antsy and keen for her to cover up. Maybe he's matured or got a better lid on the green eyed monster. Maybe it's that these guys are all a bit older. Or perhaps it's that they are all here, technically working for him.

Whatever the reason, she sees it as progress, especially after all their time apart.

>

Stepping on to the deck, Harry announces to Jeffrey with a laugh, "She wanted to jump in from the balcony too!".

"Jeez, I've got my hands full with you guys", he shakes his head.

"Which balcony?", Glenne asks, already running for the stairs.

"No, G! It's not deep enough. Fuck!", Jeff tears off after her.

He returns with her thrown over his shoulder, depositing her on the sun lounger next to Eloise as they crease into laughter.

>

That night, they take the few steps from their dinner table at Bushbar to its lounge sofas. The vibe is laid back, social and a bit sexy.

It's incredibly atmospheric, lit up with candles in hurricane lanterns, with a jungle symphony of rustling in the surrounding trees, birds calling and insects chirping. And don't forget the buzzing mosquitos.

Harry sniggers as Eloise swats a hand around her head at the tell-tale buzzing in her ear. She's being eaten alive.

"Poor baby", he coos, leaning closer. "Too damn tasty", he bites at the shell of her ear.

She's cut off from replying as the lead singer of the house band, The Jolly Boys, taps on his mic. To a chorus of eager applause and cheers, they strike up the intro to Bob Marley's One Love.

Harry snuggles Eloise into his side and whispers lowly, "Hmm, how apt?", before dropping a kiss to her temple.

Hearing Alex's scoff, he flips him off neatly behind her head.

>  
>

25th August 2016

Eloise wakes with a start to a high-pitched buzzing and a tickle in her ear. Smacking a hand to her head with a curse to the little blood-sucking bastard, she's confused when she swats at fingers.

Peeking open her eyes suspiciously, she finds Harry propped up on his elbow over her, shaking with mirth, lips pursed and fingers brandishing the tips of her hair.

"Traitor!", she gasps, pouncing on him with tickling fingers, quickly finding the weak spot low on his neck that zaps his strength and leaves him begging for mercy.

"Truce, truce!", he rasps, giggling. "Come on, sleepyhead. Let's head down to the cove".

"Before breakfast?", she asks suspiciously.

"It's worth it, trust me", he says between pecks to her lips.

"It can't be worth more than coffee?", she yawns through a full body stretch.

"Already waiting for you in the bathroom", he grins with a sly wink.

"Oh, wily tactic, Styles", she groans rolling away from him.

Her swaying hips leave him groaning as she rounds the corner with a wink.

>

After hiking down the hill to the beach, they splash around for an hour in the deserted cove, snorkelling and paddle boarding.

When Harry pops up at the side of Eloise's board, seeing that she's laying peacefully on her back, he kicks hard and pulls himself up on to his elbows to surprise her with a sweet kiss.

"Mmm, salty", he says with a grin, licking his lips.

"Hey, that's my line!", she sasses back.

"Dirty girl!", he shoves her playfully.

A little too hard; she startles and falls off the paddle board back into the water.

Despite his laughing, he hauls himself up and commandeers her board, laying down as she had been.

With his arms outstretched above his head, it's his turn to startle when she hauls herself up and drapes herself over him, the board rocking wildly as they giggle hopelessly against each other.

Jeffrey's voice calling from the beach interrupts them. "Will you guys pack it in? Breakfast time then studio. Come on... Vamos!".

"Taskmaster", Harry tuts. "When's he back to LA again?", he whines.

"Be nice. It's no easy job, keeping you in line", she laughs in sympathy. "Come on, let's head in before he threatens to send me home. Race you to the beach!".

She stands up with a wobble, trying to keep her balance as he gets to his knees. Their wrestle to push each other off for a crucial head start back to the beach ends, inevitably, with a couple of splashes and them both spluttering salt water through their laughter.


	5. Part E

26th August 2016

They forgive the early start when they arrive at the famed Blue Lagoon, just a few minutes drive from Geejam, and find it practically empty.

Successfully beating the crowds, the breathtaking natural watery playground is pretty much theirs alone for a couple of hours.

They splash and duck under the stunning waterfalls before climbing up and jumping off the huge almond tree with branches trailing all the way down into the water.

Jeff and Glenne commandeer a wooden raft and head off to paddle around the lagoon, leaving Harry and Eloise at the swing.

>

Dappled sunlight filtering through the trees above dances across their features as they arrange themselves to be able to squeeze on to the swing together. He sits first, straight on. She pulls herself over him to sit side on with one leg bent up over his, the other hanging below them.

She alternates between playing footsie with him and trailing her toes through the surface of the brilliant turquoise water as they sway gently in the breeze.

Pulling her focus from the tropical fish darting through the crystal clear water beneath them, she casts her eyes up over all his tanned skin on display, only to catch him looking pensive, pulling at his lips, deep in thought with his unseeing gaze locked on something across the lagoon.

After drinking in his beautiful features for a beat, she lifts her hand from the rope to cord her fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck to get his attention.

"You have your thinking face on again...", she anchors her other hand across his lap, fingers soothing along the side of his thigh.

He hums lowly, breaking his stare to look into her eyes, reflecting the bright blue hue of the water. "Sorry, I've been doing a lot of that", he admits.

"Talk to me, baby... What's on your mind?".

"Just a lyric that I can't quite crack", he sighs.

"And, well, lots of things, I suppose", he adds with a shrug. "The album. The pressure. The success of the band and bowing out from that at such a high, and what that means for starting afresh without any guarantees or safety nets".

"Go on...", she encourages with a gentle drum of her fingers on his thigh.

"I've only ever known huge success. Unfathomably so, really. We had fun, but there was always heaps of pressure to keep getting bigger and better. But there was a whole machine in place making that happen for us. What do I know about it all, really? Without that safety net?".

"You lived it. You know how it felt. You've got great people around you. Just keep trusting your instincts".

"Well, they're wobbling a bit", he chuckles softly.

"That's totally normal", she says slowly, pointedly, with a reassuring grin.

"I guess I need to work out what success looks like for me now. I need to set my sights a little lower".

"In what way?".

"Hitting number one in eighty countries overnight? Raking in hundreds of millions on tour?". He'd worry about sounding big headed, but he knows she knows that's just the tip of the iceberg.

"Don't sell yourself short, baby. You have millions of dedicated fans eager to hear what you'll do next. They'll be patiently waiting for you when you're ready to share it. And there will be millions more that don't even realise they'll love it yet. It's so exciting!", she grins, squeezing his thigh.

"But wouldn't reframing success to how you want to feel be a little easier and more meaningful? Surely working out the figures and targets is Jeff and the label's job?".

"When did you get so wise?", he asks, mouth slightly agape.

"You've got impeccable taste, H". She scoffs at his smirk as he looks over her bikini clad frame, nudging his shoulder again playfully. "Musical taste! Pull on all those influences and just have some fun. Surely if you write and put out stuff you love and believe in, then you just need to find the other people that will love it too? Whether that's tens of millions of them, or just ten".

"Well, hopefully a few more than ten...", he grimaces with an eyebrow raised.

"Obviously", she grins softly. "I don't think I've ever seen you have a crisis of confidence...", she strokes gently into his damp hair again.

"Ha! Must be a decent actor after all then", he laughs wryly. "I'm just feeling the pressure, I guess", he shrugs again.

"These guys are all so talented, and sometimes I look up and they're all just staring at me, waiting, and it's like my mind just goes totally blank. I came here with so many ideas in my head and it just feels like they come out in a jumble sometimes. Trying to work out what's decent can feel like finding a needle in a haystack, you know?".

"Well I wouldn't, because you won't let me hear anything...", she teases before relenting as he starts squirming. "Jeff and Alex were saying you laid down five amazing songs in the first week here!".

"I need more than five for an album though", he pouts. "Like Alex said, we need some darker stuff too. But it's so bloody hard, honestly, when I'm so happy and totally loved up...", he leans across to find her lips in a tender kiss.

She has to grab on to the rope again to avoid melting off the swing in a puddle of goo.

"Shit, you're cute. And smooth as fuck", she giggles when she comes back to her senses.

"Well love makes for the best songs, right? Wanting it, fearing it, losing it. Falling in and out. But there's more than just romantic love. Platonic love, unrequited love, distant love...", she counts on her fingers. "In the grand scheme of things, I've been in your life properly for, what, a year and a half? Look beyond those rose tinted glasses and draw on the rest of your life too".

"It's hard though. Me without you doesn't make sense anymore", he pierces her with an intense look as his hand trails up and down her bent leg.

"God, you're killing me...", she shakes her head, speechless, before physically shaking off the weight of his sentiment and imploring, desperate to get through to him. "You've done and seen so much, and met some incredible people. Tap into all those experiences and have some fun with it".

"What, like, temper the sunlight you bring to my life with some shadow? Just for the album. I'm not looking for any shade, believe me". He kisses her again.

"I get it, H. News flash: I'm no serial killer, but I had a blast writing about one. Take all the creative license you need to embellish your stories. Just be honest about the emotion at the heart of them. I promise I won't take it all literally and hold you to account".

"The media might. The fans definitely will", he frowns.

"Well then be a man of mystery! Hey, it'll get them talking and that will sell albums".

"It's hard though...".

"A blank sheet of paper? Trust me, I get that. But I just make up stories. Yours are way more honest and personal... But say it to the guitar, the piano. They don't have ears. And I promise to stay out of your hair; no more nagging, okay? I'm just so fucking proud of you, baby".

It's his turn to shake his head at her. Disbelieving of his luck. Grateful for her ears, empathy and advice. He feels lighter for offloading.

It's the deepest, longest, uninterrupted conversation they've had in what feels like forever, and they're feeling closer and more connected than ever, confident in their bond and their future.

Resting their heads back against each rope, they gaze unashamedly; dazzling green locked on bright blue. Sweet smiles and soppy grins. Trailing fingers and entwined legs.

She reaches to stroke his jaw and leans forward to angle his head towards hers, finding his lips with a soft sigh and a sweep of her tongue along the curve of his lower lip.

They startle apart when Glenne hollers across the otherwise peaceful lagoon as they paddle their way back towards them, "Hey, get a room!".

"A master with a four poster should do it", Harry grumbles, dropping his forehead to hers.

She drops a hand to his shorts before they're close enough to see and palms him teasingly. "Patience is a virtue", she purrs knowingly.

"Not one of mine", he moans.

>

Back at the villa, Harry reappears back downstairs looking for Eloise, shower fresh, still in just a towel. He'd been hoping she would join him.

He finds her at work in the kitchen, chopping up the mountain of fresh tropical fruits left over from breakfast.

Swaying her hips playfully, she sings along softly to Bob Marley, filtering through the speakers.

Leaning against the doorframe, he watches her intently; her long fingers tantalisingly squeezing the firm flesh. Rich green, sunny yellow, blazing orange, flushed pink. Soft papaya, fresh pineapple, sweet mango, juicy watermelon.

When he sees her suck a cube of cantaloupe melon before popping it into her mouth, he's unable to resist.

Prowling closer, he leans his elbows on the island and watches her intently, adjusting himself none too subtly under his low slung towel.

She smiles brightly when she notices him, before quickly smacking at his hand stretching into the bowl.

As she juices a lime over the contents and gives it a stir, he makes the most of her distraction and snatches a slice of uncut watermelon.

Waiting until she's watching, he trails a finger teasingly back and forth over the soft pink flesh at its rim before sucking it past his lips to savour the gathered juice.

Hearing her soft gasp he cuts his eyes up to hers, holding the intense contact as he lifts the watermelon to his mouth and takes an eager, greedy mouthful, moaning sinfully.

The path of the juice escaping from the corner of his pink lips then dripping down his chin and neck has her fumbling the knife in a clatter.

Smirking as he pokes his tongue out to lap the juice from the crease of his mouth, seeing her hungry look has him standing upright and slinking closer, adjusting the evident bulge under his towel.

She looks like a startled deer in headlights; his prey.

Wrapping his hands around her waist, he drops them to her bum, squeezing the firm flesh with a groan as he presses himself into her.

"Mmm, feeling fruity?", he quips lowly as he ducks his head for a kiss.

Craning her neck, she dodges his advances to lick a broad stripe up his chest, neck, jaw and chin, gathering the spilled juice, before claiming his lips and swallowing his groan. Sweet and fresh, it's delicious. He's irresistible.

But two can play this game. With a final peck, she shoots him a coy glance up through her lashes before nonchalantly stepping back to her chopping board.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him pout in disappointment.

Shoulders dropping, deflated, he pops a hip against the island and eyes her closely. That was A-game material and that kiss was simply too hot to amount to nothing.

His lips pull into a growing, knowing smirk as she teasingly trails her fingers over the bunch of bananas.

Selecting the biggest, she tests the firmness of the flesh before humming appreciatively. Cutting her eyes back to his, she peels it, teasingly.

Then, letting her weighted gaze rake over his body, she taps the knife rhythmically against the chopping board, weighing her options.

Deliberately catching his eye again, a smirk pulls at the corner of her lips as she tilts her head back and impressively downs most of the banana. His appreciative, jealous groan tails off into a whimper as she sinks her teeth into the giving flesh to bite it cleanly off.

Smiling smugly whilst chewing her big mouthful, he spins her and crowds her against the counter top, caged in his arms.

"Careful now, I bruise like a peach", he drawls lowly in her ear.

She's barely swallowed before she tosses her head back and barks a laugh. She wasn't expecting that. "Damn it, you're too good at this game! Two-one, to you".

He laughs into her neck, pressing hot kisses from her clavicle to her ear, where he sucks on her lobe before whispering lowly, lewdly. "The smoking hot love of my life just deep throated my second favourite fruit. If anyone's got game, it's you, babe".

He cups a hand to the nape of her neck and sweeps his tongue into her mouth, hips pressing as he savours two of his favourite flavours, banana and her.

"What's your favourite then?", she whispers against his lips, genuinely curious. He bloody loves a banana.

"Your watermelon", he says, impossibly deep, with an intense look in his eyes, pupils already blown.

With that, he swallows her shocked laughter again and paws at her whilst she grapples to wash her sticky hands at the sink and get the bowl of fruit into the fridge before he pulls her up into his arms and marches them upstairs.

"Studio in thirty!", they hear Jeff shout as he kicks the master bedroom door closed.

He tosses her on to the four poster bed and crawls predatorily over her, muscles taut.

"Fuck, these double knots...", he laments, tugging at the ties of her black bikini.

She swats him away, "Just pull it off", she pants, doing just that to the towel low on his hips.

>

Once she'd recovered enough from his merciless hunger, she was eager to switch positions and repay the favour.

With one hand digging into her scalp and the other tugging at his own wildly dishevelled hair, he's quickly nearing his peak.

Her piercing eye contact from down in his lap is almost enough alone to set him off. Factoring in her relentless licking, gliding, bobbing and sucking, he's not sure how he's still holding out.

He doesn't want this sweet torture to end, so when his balls tingle and abs tense in anticipation of another swallow of her throat around his sensitive head, he knows he needs to distract her, and quickly.

He gasps a ragged inhale and flexes his fingers into her hair as he raggedly shouts out "Seven... Seven... Seven!".

Her surprise has her gagging and eyes tearing before she pulls back and collapses into his lap in shocked laughter. Again.

"Fucking hell! What are you like?".

"Think that makes it three-one to me, right? Come on, baby".

His butter wouldn't melt expression contrasts wildly with the devilish shift of his hips to nudge her lips with his straining, glistening length.

She doesn't need any encouragement. Resolving to wipe the smug smile from his face, she redoubles her efforts, grinning around him when she hears his low moan.

>

Fully spent, he weakly pulls her up and on to his heaving chest, dropping a shaky kiss to her head before she twists to look up at him.

She lifts a finger to swipe daintily at the corner of her mouth before sneaking her tongue across her upper lip. She frowns, deadpan, "Hmm, tastes like feet...".

There's a beat of shocked silence before she hoots with laughter and he shouts, affronted, "How fucking dare you?!".

"Oh, and she's back in the game!", she fist pumps.

His face splits into a grin and then peals of laughter. "Oh God, truce truce! My ego can't take any more!", he begs, dropping another kiss to her head.

When Jeff hollers up the stairs again, Harry rolls off the bed with a groan. "Still three-two, to me though", he sasses, slapping her bum.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I definitely just won", she calls after him with a wince, dropping a hand to where still feels delicate and mushy; a bit like over-ripe watermelon, fittingly enough.

>

After another shower, he leans over her - still bonelessly spread across the bed and impossible to resist - to drop a parting kiss to her lips.

He's just planted a hand and knee alongside her, leaning closer, when Jeff shouts again from downstairs.

"Fucking hell", he throws his head back and shouts in frustration.

She giggles, blowing him a kiss and giving a coy wave as he jumps off the bed and adjusts his shorts again. Spinning to head out the door, he tosses a singsong "Love you, byeee" over his shoulder in parting.

>

Eloise isn't sure what's burning more, her legs or her lungs, as she digs in to make it up to the crest of the hill.

Still feeling worked up, after her roll around in the sheets with Harry earlier, heading out for a run down to the beach once the heat of the sun started tapering off seemed like a great idea to burn some restless energy.

Following interval sprints along the sand with that bitch of an uphill climb back to their villa was anything but.

Hamstrings singing with relief at the brief downhill lope down the drive, she finally bursts through the side gate, startling the guys around the pool.

Red in the face, dripping with sweat, she bends over double trying to catch her breath.

"Fuck, if that's what it takes to look that good then I'm just not interested", Glenne quips as Harry hauls himself out of the pool to grab Eloise a bottle of cold water.

She pants a thanks and downs it in one whilst toeing off her sandy trainers and socks. Pulling off Harry's baseball cap and her tank top, she steps straight into the outdoor shower to rinse off before diving into the pool in her sports bra and shorts to cool off.

>

They crack open some drinks and have a chilled evening around the pool.

Changed into a bikini with Harry's zip-up hoodie over the top, she lounges against his chest on a sun lounger.

Listening to Jeff Bhasker and Alex bantering back and forth, he tries to count the many mosquito bites dotting her legs whilst she pens a bikini on the mermaid inked on the underside of his forearm.

Mitch is the first to notice. "Was she bothering you?", he asks her with a chuckle.

"Well her shitty, wonky tits were", she scoffs with a laugh.

"Hey, leave her alone!", Harry whines, trying to pull his arm away.

"Oh come on, these are not great boobs", she sasses back, pinching at the sensitive skin on the inside of his arm.

"Well, I hadn't seen yours then, had I?", Harry says lowly, shifting his hands up to cup her in appreciation. After a squeeze and a crass honk he creases into laughter as she tries to elbow him off her.

"Some shading might help...", she says, giving it a whirl with the blue pen.

"Honestly, H... What did your Mom say?", Glenne probes.

"That's never to be repeated", he laughs. "Such scandalous language! I'm still not over it".

>

Eloise has had a great time hanging out with Glenne whilst the guys have been holed up writing or in the studio.

The hang out pretty frequently in LA, but almost always with the boys or in a larger group, so it's lovely to get some one on one time.

Both 'guys' girls', they share some similar traits. Usually laid back, but occasionally wildly energetic and up for making mischief. Witty and silly. Empathetic and good listeners. Fiercely protective of their boys. And, generally, a little weary of other women.

She's loved getting to know all the guys too.

Jeff Bhasker is unique and creative and wonderfully nonjudgemental. He's pushy with Harry, but boosts his confidence in the process, making him hungry and brave and brilliant.

Alex, Tyler and Ryan are warm and fun, each passionate in their own way.

Mitch is quickly turning into one of her very favourite people. He's super chilled and a keen observer, but drops scathingly funny one liners when you're least expecting it.

With his slim build, long hair, beard and muted clothing, he comes across as pretty inconspicuous; the yin to Harry's yang.

Eloise can tell they have quickly forged a very strong bond. And it runs far deeper than their mutual appreciation of dodgy romantic comedies.

Mitch came with no preconceived notions of Harry or One Direction. He's an open book and seems to take everyone and everything at face value. He's still pretty new to the recording and studio processes, and Harry vibes with that fish out of water simpatico. Despite all his experience with the band, he's feeling like something of a novice himself these days, recording his first solo album and just having wrapped his first film.

>

When Harry jumps up to grab more drinks for everyone, Eloise catches Mitch shaking his head watching him jog inside.

Looking over her shoulder at Harry, she catches him shimmy through the doors to the kitchen. She turns back to him with a grin and an exasperated roll of her eyes. "What?", she laughs.

"He's unreal. It's like the charm and charisma just oozes from him. I keep waiting for him to drop the act and start behaving like a diva, but that's just him, right?".

"Yeah, he's pretty special", she grins again, scrunching her nose fondly.

"I've never met anyone quite like him... Well, until you, I guess?".

"Oh, hardly!", she scoffs, rebutting his compliment.

"Oh God, you really don't see it, do you? Neither does he...", he stares wistfully between them as Harry makes his way back over, arms laden with drinks.

"What?", Eloise pushes, curious.

"Doesn't matter. Don't question it. It just explains why you're so perfect for each other, that's all", he bats his observation away with a flick of his wrist.

Blushing at Mitch's sweet flattery and intrigued at his perception, Eloise eyes Harry, who looks between them curiously, "What?", he echoes, unknowingly.

"Nothing!", they both chirp, sharing a smile.

>  
>

30th August 2016

She tries desperately to keep from prying to avoid adding any more pressure, but Harry successfully manages to hold out on her for a few more days.

So she's surprised when he pops up unexpectedly at the end of her cabana day bed on the beach, bashfully asking for her help. In the studio.

>

Trying to keep a handle on her excitement, she's surprised to find that Jeff Bhasker is the only one waiting in the studio for them. The others must have headed back to the villa, already done for the day.

"Here she is!", Jeff cheers as Harry guides her inside and over to the sofa.

"What can I try to help with? Shifty over here's given me no hints...", she jokes, elbowing Harry playfully in the ribs.

"Well, I jokingly said we needed to find someone with the voice of angel to try out a harmony, H here said he knew just the girl. You've been holding out on us, huh?", he teases. "Classically trained? Soprano or alto?".

"Yeah, but a long time ago. Mezzo; well I was, but I've just spent three months trashing it, so I'm genuinely not sure what voice I have left", she chuckles nervously, rubbing her neck.

"It's just a guide lay, just to see if it works", Jeff reassures her. "We'll record it with a full gospel choir later if it does, so no pressure. Will you give it a go for us?".

She nods, "Sure. What exactly are you after?".

Jeff plays the instrumental. It's disarmingly simple, with just three rolling chords laying the foundations - F major, D minor and C major. Swirling strings kick in, giving her a clue to the lilting melody.

She turns to Harry, grinning, and grabs his hand. "Oh, it's beautiful, H!".

He smiles back with a blush colouring his cheeks, anxiously explaining, "It's still very much a work in progress. And the strings are just synths for now; they'll sound better when we record them for real".

"For the final verse, we're thinking a choral harmony something like this...", Jeff explains, working through some chord progressions at the piano. "It needs to lift higher than any of us can do justice, but if we can just get one, we can shift it higher and lower and layer them together for depth".

He plays it a few times until she nods again, turning back to Harry. "Will you sing me your part, just so I can get an ear for it?".

When he whines and flops face down into the sofa, Eloise turns back to Jeff and sees him roll his eyes, exasperatedly. "Come on, H. It sounds great already. Get over yourself, she's helping us out".

"It's just me, H...", she encourages softly, rubbing his back.

"Exactly!", he muffles.

"Ouch".

Hearing the tone in her voice, he sits back up with a sigh and nudges her shoulder. "I mean... I care more about what you think than just about anyone else".

"H-", she melts.

But he cuts her off, finding courage. "Okay, okay... Fine, play it from just before three minutes in", he says, turning on the sofa to watch her reaction, one eye already squeezed shut in a wince.

She leans forward to peck a smiling kiss, whispering a "Thank you" against his lips, before she squeezes his hands and squeals excitedly, turning to Jeff at the mixing desk with an eager nod.

>

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't that.

When his full and rich tenor comes in, she's covered immediately in goosebumps. "Just stop your crying / It's a sign of the times / We gotta get away from here".

It's deceptively simple structure makes for something hauntingly beautiful - sweeping and epic.

She whips her head back to him, eyebrows raised. When her mouth, agape in shock, shifts into a beaming, proud smile, he starts to relax a bit. Finally.

She's surprised again when he kicks up to a falsetto. "We never learn, we've been here before / Why are we always stuck and running from / The bullets?".

"The harmony will layer up over this, the final verse...", Jeff explains, as Harry's voice drops back down to his register. "We don't talk enough / We should open up / Before it's all too much / Will we ever learn? / We've been here before / It's just what we know / Stop your crying, baby / It's a sign of the times / We've got to get away".

"We haven't done the refrain yet", Harry explains hastily. "Just a repeat of that last line, but it will continue in the same vein".

Jeff plays the run of notes for her again at the piano, "Got it?".

He strikes the opening note to help her tune up, whilst Harry sorts out headphones and adjusts the mic for her.

>

Warmed up, Eloise steps up to the mic in the corner as Jeff busies himself back at the desk. Turning the stand around to face the corner, she sends Harry a cheeky, nervy wink over her shoulder.

Jeff hums the chord progression again for her in a lower octave before cueing up Harry's vocal as a guide over the instrumental, then counts her in.

With her back to them, she misses the looks they share as she nails the runs, soaring over Harry's vocal as his starts the epic climb to that final amazing belt.

>

After a few takes, she turns around sheepishly, "Umm, how was that?".

"Holy shit! That's your real voice, isn't it?", Harry asks, genuinely shocked. He knew she had the pipes and an ear for pitch, but her talent for mimicry means he's never heard that sweet, soft, clean tone. It makes him even more impressed with what he saw in the studio that day with Stevie.

"Fucking yes... Yes!", Jeff crows. "This will work. Give me a minute...", he says distractedly, working frantically at the sound board.

Harry takes the opportunity to tug her back to him and into his lap on the sofa. "Fucking hell, baby! You're amazing", he says reverently before kissing her soundly.

Jeff coughs to interrupt them. "It's just rushed, but here, listen to this...".

Harry, now fizzing with excitement and energy, can't help but start singing along. When her harmony kicks in he follows it, lower, adding some more depth.

The way he looks at her whilst singing makes her toes curl.

It's only laid loosely and needs proper mixing and layering, but the choral harmony definitely works, helping the end of the song soar to dizzying heights.

They're thrilled.

She's just happy she could help. And finally got to hear something. Judging by this mere snippet, she's even more eager to hear the rest. Harry groans at the realisation.

"Don't let Jeffrey catch wind of this", Jeff jokes as they get up to leave. "He'll start nagging to sign you, El".

"No bloody thank you!", she laughs.

>  
>

3rd September 2016

Eloise blames the hangover for feeling emotional saying goodbye to all the guys. They're just so great, and so talented, and care for Harry so much.

Mixing rum and tequila was a mistake. All silly drunk, they'd stayed on at the beach bar long after dark, only staggering disorderly back up the hill after 10pm. They should have called it a night then, but carried on around the pool at the villa into the early hours.

Inexplicably, they'd ended up trading clothes as a dare, and one of the last things she can remember was Harry - wearing her floaty red floral wrap dress - giving a slurred, sappy toast, telling everyone just how much he loves them.

They all get to relax today and sleep off their hangovers in the shade under a palm tree. She has a night flight back to London, alone.

With Carlton loading her suitcases into the jeep, Harry tugging her into his arms has her bursting into tears, fisting his t-shirt desperately.

"Oh baby, not the waterworks. You'll set me off too...", he presses a kiss to her forehead before pulling back to swipe the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, pouting at her dejectedly.

"Sorry. I just fucking hate saying goodbye to you".

"I know, I know. I get it. God, I've loved having you here".

"Thank you for having me. Thank you, for everything".

She leans in to kiss him properly.

Carlton jumping into the Jeep and closing his door pulls them apart, unhappily.

"I'll see you in London. In just two weeks or so; I'll keep you posted. It'll go quickly; we've done longer".

"Doesn't make it any easier though", she mumbles with a shrug, meeting his watery eyes.

"Oh, you're killing me here, baby. I feel bad".

"Don't! You need to be here. It's amazing", she says decisively. "Keep focused and keep at it. Make the distance worthwhile".

"Babyyyy...", he coos cutely, taking her hand. "Come on, give me a smile?".

"Stop, H. I don't feel very smiley right now", she pouts, reaching up to wipe away a tear from her cheek.

"Try. For me, please?".

She grimaces.

"Yikes!", he winces, before starting to pincer his hands oddly over hers.

"H, come on... What are you-?".

When he snaps his head back up to hers, a full throttle, dimpled grin stretches across his handsome face. "You're my lobster", he shrugs cutely. "I'm your lobster".

She grants him a proper smile at that. Another sodding perfect Friends reference. Shit, he's cute.

"There she is!", he coos with a fist pump. "And that makes it, what, like seven-four, to me?"

"Fine! You win".

"Sorry?", he gasps, "What was that?", genuinely shocked to hear her conceding defeat.

She just shakes her head, no.

"Say it again".

"No! Fuck off, Larry lobster", she sasses.

"Moody lobster!", he gasps.

"Oh, my God, you're such a dork!", she moans, smiling broadly.

When he pincers her bum with his lobster claw fingers, she squeals before turning back to kiss him deeply. For their final time, they take their time.

>

Carlton's evidently a patient man, but even his infectious laugh can't raise her spirits on the drive back to the airport.

It's so unfair that the goodbyes only get harder the longer they spend together.

Series continues with '6 | Back to you'.


End file.
